The Queen of Niflheim
by Miri1984
Summary: Hel's story, daughter of Loki and Angrboda, from her birth in Jotunheim to past the events of The Avengers. Based mostly in Norse Mythology with borrowings from the Marvel and Avengers Movie universe. Rated M for later chapters.


The gift of prophecy is inexact. At least that is what I was taught. Hints and glimpses of the future are all we are graced with, yet when an event is large enough to shake the very roots of Yggdrasil even those of us with limited talent can catch glimpses with clarity.

My talent has never been limited.

He first came to Jotunheim as a young man — barely an adult, full of stories of our monstrosity. Yet he was curious too, about us, about what we were. I would say that his blood drew him here, but it was more than just that.

Obvious, to those of us with the talent of Seiðr, that he was not Aesir. That he did not know this himself was the curiosity that drew me closer to him, wandering the wastes of Jotunheim searching for tidbits of magical knowledge. I watched him only, as my true appearance would have spurred attack. I am small, for one of my kind, just as he is — the Seiðr takes somewhat from us, although the talent is so rare among my people that this has been forgotten. Laufey did not know it, when his bastard son was born, and hence he believed Loki to be less than his other children. Unwanted because we Jotun have been taught that to be a _giant _is all that matters.

It is no wonder we lost the war.

I sometimes think, how different things may have been had he recognised Loki's potential. Perhaps our children would have been more than a means to an end. Perhaps I could have stood at Loki's side, a proud princess of the Giants, and our children could have stood tall and true, instead of being warped by magic and purpose. But this branch of possibility was ever closed to my sight, and I find I do not regret it.

Sometimes to know what could have been is more painful than to know what is.

This, the first time that I saw him, was when my world shuddered and the path I needed to take opened up before me, and I began to lay my plans.

I veil myself from the watchful gaze of Heimdall, especially when I travel to Asgard. My kin are known too well there for me to take my normal form. Loki was easy to find, in the gardens of the great library, nose buried in magical texts. He was easy to seduce, with my own knowledge of secret paths and shapeshifting magics. His thirst for knowledge matched most men's lust for other things, although his lust for those was as strong as only a young, untried man's can be. We lay together in the royal palace, and though my purpose was not pleasure, I will not deny that his form was pleasing, even if he was little skilled. So very young, but strong enough, and virile enough, for the seed of our first child to take root and grow.

Fenrir, our firstborn. Loyal and true, and so beautiful. A companion for my heart, one that eased the loneliness of centuries.

It was many years later that we met again. This time on the outskirts of a Midgardian city. Fenrir had long past left my side, and Loki had no idea that he had fathered a child. Years had taken their toll on him. There were cares in his eyes, and jealousy, and love.

He did not recognise me though. When we lay together I had to smile at the difference from the boy I had known and I let myself admit that it was not just for the sake of prophecy that I did this.

Jormungund was our secondborn. The birth was hard, far worse than that of Fenrir, and I was incapacitated for many months after. Fenrir returned, called by my pain, and he licked the blood from his brother's serpent body and guarded me while I rested. It was the hardest time of my life.

Loki sought me out, the third time. He had heard of my mastery of the art, and for the first time he saw me in my true form — a frost giant, diminutive for our kind, yet fascinating to him. He had been taught to hate us, yet there is a bond in learning, and a bond between us from the times we had already shared. I was foolish. Age was eating at my vanity and my skill and his vitality attracted me more than it should.

Our final coupling had not supposed to result in a child, yet she was born and I could not bring myself to regret it. I felt love for her, even though her body was caught between two peoples — a Jotun who fancied himself an Aesir and myself — a contradiction, and an old woman who should have known better. Magic does stranger things to children than mortals realise, and Hel, though she seemed closer to normality than her brothers, was the strangest of them all.

For years we lived as a family, and Loki heard nothing of us. It was not until Frigga finally worked through the threads of prophecy that Odin stripped my children from me. Jormangund was flung into the seas of Midgard. Fenrir was chained. My poor Hel… though…

…another fate was in store for her.

I knew that it would come to pass. It did not make it any easier to bear.


End file.
